


We're Trying So Hard Not to Fall Asleep

by Chash



Series: Anything You Like [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 06:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke doesn't know where exactly to put Bellamy on the scale of serious royal relationships, but she likes him enough that she knows where she wants him to end up.It just feels a lot more likely that they'll get there if she keeps it low key for now.





	We're Trying So Hard Not to Fall Asleep

"So, Bellamy Blake."

When Clarke saw her mother had asked for a meeting, she knew exactly what was coming, but some part of her had still, foolishly, hoped that it was early enough days her mother wouldn't be prying yet.

"Bellamy Blake," she agrees, crossing her legs at the ankle, every inch the prim and proper princess.

"Born January 14, 19--"

"Really? That's where we're starting?"

Abby sighs and puts her iPad down. "I don't know where to start. Maybe that I had to hear from your brother, who heard from his daughter, that you were seeing someone?"

"It's been less than a week, we're barely seeing each other. And you knew I was seeing him, I told you. You refused to reschedule a call and I was half an hour late."

Her mother inclines her head. "I didn't know it was an important date."

"It's kind of hard to tell which dates are important before you go on them."

"Have you had sex with him?"

Clarke doesn't let herself react to that one. "Is there a reason you're asking?"

"Because he's a B-list actor who would probably be thrilled to use an affair with a princess to boost his profile."

"Seriously?"

"I'm not saying that's what's going to happen, but if it does, we need to be prepared. I'm sure you used your best judgement, but--"

"Yes, I slept with him," she says. "No, I'm not concerned he's going to leak it to the press, and it's not your business whom I sleep with. That's my decision."

"I'm so glad you're not worried."

"Shouldn't you be? I'm the one who's met him. You're just assuming he wants to leverage this for fame because he's not a big enough name, which is--I don't even know where to start with that."

"I'm being practical. We need to be prepared for--"

"I am prepared. I thought about the risks, and I like him, and I fucked him. If that gets out, it gets out, and I'll deal with it."

"You're not the only one who would have to deal with it," Abby says, coming very close to losing her cool, but she pulls herself back, expression smoothing out. "Are you planning to see him again?"

"Yes. I was looking at my schedule to see if I could make it out to Canada in the next few weeks."

Abby looks like she's developing a cluster headache, and Clarke does feel a little bad. Her mother has been trying very hard to find her an appropriate partner, and she's been surprisingly good about it, offering both men and women as options, being open and accepting and only pressuring her a little to settle down. She's done her best, but so far Clarke has more spark with Miller's college roommate than all the European nobility her mother has thrown at her put together. 

"Why don't you just tell me exactly what you're thinking," she finally says.

It's a good suggestion, if a difficult one. "I'm thinking--I like him. There isn't much more to it than that yet."

"He's divorced."

"He is."

"And that doesn't worry you?"

"You're divorced."

Abby's mouth thins. "I'm trying to _help_ , Clarke. You could at least meet me halfway."

"He told me he was divorced, he's an actor, and his father was Filipino. If anything serious happens with us, he assumes the press is going to drag him through the ringer for all of that. We're both aware."

" _If_ anything serious happens? You don't think this is serious yet?"

And that's really the problem right there, the reason she and her mother can't actually have this conversation. Because Clarke _is_ serious about him, but not in the royal way. Being serious about someone, as a princess, means logistics and announcements and carefully planned public appearances. It means background checks--which apparently her mother already has covered--and meetings and complications.

And the thing is, she can imagine doing all that with Bellamy. She can imagine him being the person who makes all that worth it. Even though he's back in Vancouver, they've been texting, this strange, staggered communication when they're both awake and free at the same time. She _likes_ him, but she doesn't want to deal with the realities of liking him yet. And even if she is thinking, in some corner of her mind, that he might be someone she's serious about, they can't really decide that now.

"I know it feels early to be thinking about it like this," Abby says, like she's reading Clarke's mind. "But these are the things you have to worry about. If it comes out that the two of you have been seeing each other--"

"I know if I announce him as my boyfriend, it's going to be a big deal," Clarke says. "And I still might do it. But we need to figure out how it is first. Which is why I'm scheduling time to spend a week or two in Canada soon."

Abby nods. "So, it's serious enough. We should be prepared for this to leak."

"You should be prepared for it to be a thing," says Clarke, careful. "I want it to be."

To her credit, Abby simply nods. "Then we'll be ready for it."

*

Clarke does book a hotel in Vancouver, but all she does is check in and then she's out again, hailing a cab to take her out to Bellamy's. He's got a condo on the outskirts of the city, and while they agreed it might be a little much for them to assume she was going to spend all her time there, she does know she wants to be there the first night.

If the doorman recognizes her, he shows no sign of it, and if he knows the name she gives isn't her real one, he doesn't seem to care. He lets her in, and she takes a deep breath and goes up.

It's been a week and a half since she saw Bellamy, which isn't that long, but it's still kind of awkward. She doesn't know what dating is like for normal people, but she always feels confident and optimistic when she's with him, and then as soon as he's out of her sight, doubts set in, and she's convinced that everything she had been feeling was, if not a lie, at least exaggerated. Maybe it's always like this; it takes a while to develop relationship permanence, just like object permanence.

Luckily all he has to do is open the door, hair a mess, smile sheepish, and all her doubts melt away.

"Hi," he says, and she steps in for a kiss.

"Hi."

He brushes her hair back off her temple. "How was the flight?"

"Long. I wish you were on the east coast."

"Yeah, but you fly first class, so I don't feel bad for you."

She laughs, and he tugs her close for another, much longer kiss. It's strange, how comforting it already is to be close to him, how familiar his arms are. 

Her mother might not need to be involved yet, but she really is stupidly serious about this.

"How was filming today?"

"Not that bad. Started early, but didn't go too late. Everyone made fun of me for being distracted."

She smiles. "Yeah?"

"I deserved it."

"You know I'm going to be here for a while, right? You'll get sick of me."

"Good to start with optimism. And I thought you had duties or something. I can't believe you can just take two weeks off to hang out in Canada."

"There are duties I can perform in Canada. It's the twenty-first century, Bellamy, conference calls are a thing. Diplomatic meetings with the Canadian government, charity work--I'm not blowing off all my duties to hang out with you. We both have day jobs."

" _Day jobs_ ," he teases. "I'm pretty sure neither of us has a day job."

"Fine. I'm not neglecting my royal duties to make out with you. I've rescheduled my entire life around making out with you."

"And I appreciate it. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

He makes pasta while Clarke sits at the island in his kitchen, watching him move around the space. It's nice, getting to experience him in his own element, seeing him comfortable and relaxed and easy. 

It's maybe fucked up to immediately ruin that, but she wants to get this out of the way. "My mother asked about you."

She can't see his face, but she can see him wince. "What about me?"

"The usual. How serious it was, if I knew you were divorced, if you were going to sell a sex tape to boost your brand."

"Wow, I hadn't even thought of that. Who wants to release an unplanned sex tape?"

"Just an unplanned one?" she teases.

"Look, I'm not saying the sex we had wasn't awesome, because it was. But I wasn't really thinking about lighting or angles or anything. If I was going to leak a tape of myself having sex, I'd want to make sure I looked good."

"That's definitely what I should tell my mom."

"Yeah, if there's one thing I want the Queen of Arcadia to know about me, it's that I care about the production value on my hypothetical sex tapes." He pokes at the sauce with a deliberation that Clarke isn't sure how to interpret until he adds, "How serious did you tell her we were?"

"Not serious enough she has to do anything about it." She sighs, swirling her wine around in her glass. She's exhausted, but she'll feel better if they get this over with. "She just wants to know if she has to start preparing press releases."

"And she doesn't?"

"I don't really want her to. Do you think she does?"

"Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I assume someone's going to notice you're in Canada, and possibly that you're not staying in the hotel. But if it leaks, at least I know how to deal with it. What does it look like if there are press releases? Just so I'm prepared."

"I don't know either. I've never been serious enough about anyone to need to do this before. All I've had to worry about is people finding someone before I'm serious about them, and then I have to figure out, like--princesses aren't really supposed to fool around. I've never done the press release on purpose, just as damage control."

"Yeah, I get that. I'm not big enough that the mainstream press cares, but you should have seen my fandom's meltdown when I took my sister to an awards thing. It was the first season, I hadn't figured out I had a following yet. It didn't occur me that the photographers would call her my date. So I guess you can get pumped for some gross misogyny."

"And you can get pumped for gross racism."

"Sorry, did you think I didn't know there was going to be gross racism?" He turns to smile at her. "That was on my list of issues, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. Just--I still feel like we've been on two dates, we shouldn't have to be talking about stuff like this yet. We should be figuring out if we have anything in common, not what we'll say about whether or not we're getting married."

"We could do both. I like terrifying hypothetical situations." He leans his elbows on the counter top. "I know we talked about this some, but I was thinking. We don't have to pretend this is a normal relationship, right? We can just accept that our lives are weird and be upfront about it."

"I don't want to scare you off."

"Maybe you're not going to. I did tell you about my divorce."

"That wasn't going to keep me from wanting to date you."

"Royalty isn't going to keep me from wanting to date you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"You know it's a pretty sweet deal, right? And you're basically a figurehead, you don't have to do much."

"Honestly, I'd probably be happier if I did more."

"Yeah, you seem like the royal who actually does stuff type."

"But also--we get all this attention and all this media coverage and, honestly, all this _money_. It would be great if we did something to actually deserve it. I'm trying to use my power to do as much good as I can, but it's hard to be good enough to justify a monarchy."

"I guess it would be. So, what kind of shit am I signing up for? Not the bad press and bigotry, I got that. But the stuff that would be hard for anyone who decided to marry you."

It's surprisingly easy to talk about. She was young when Roan got married, but still old enough to remember a lot of what he went through, the steps of presenting each stage of the relationship, asking for Abby's blessing, getting a ring, and the nightmare of royal wedding planning. 

"How long was it?" Bellamy asks, curious. They've finished dinner and moved onto his couch with wine; Clarke is tired, but not the kind of tired where she really wants to go to sleep. She's curled up in her boyfriend's arms with alcohol; it's hard to want to be anywhere else. "Between announcing the relationship and marriage?"

"About three years, but Roan was younger. It's this weird thing where--" She sighs. "At this point, if I cough in someone's direction, the press thinks we're in love. I'm apparently getting too old to be single and ready to mingle. I'm not supposed to have flings anymore. So if I announced a relationship with someone, I would want it to be serious, and I would probably want to know we were getting married. Nothing personal."

He kisses her hair. "Trust me, I don't mind that you're not shouting about us from the rooftops. I'm just glad I don't have to do anything for a while."

"Unless pictures of us get out or something. But until I bring you somewhere official, it's not really--the pressure isn't on. I'm allowed to just have a boyfriend, as far as my mother and my handlers are concerned." She twists to look at him. "What would I be expecting?"

"Random vitriol from people who are upset I'm not dating one of my coworkers."

"Which one?"

"Depends on where the vitriol is coming from. The big ones are the people who want me to be dating Murphy and the people who want me to be dating Harper. But I don't want to be dating either of them, so--"

"So you're dating me."

"As long as you don't go on social media, you should be fine."

"I don't have official personal social media."

"Yeah? What about unofficial?"

"I have a locked twitter account to follow news sites and friends from university, but I never post to it. Even my staff doesn't know it exists, and it's their job to know everything about me."

"That should be pretty safe."

"Maybe your fans will like me. I'm pretty great."

He laughs. "You are pretty great. Could I keep acting?"

The question surprises her. "If you married me?"

"Yeah. Grace Kelly gave it up."

"Did you know that already, or have you been googling Grace Kelly?"

"She's my only point of reference here. That's the only other actor I know who got involved with royalty. So my new motto is _would Grace Kelly do_?"

"As far as I know, she was pretty cool, so you could do worse." She finishes her wine and snuggles in against his chest. "I think it would be pretty hard for you to keep acting like you're acting now. Movies take less time, you could probably do a movie every once in a while if you wanted, but being a regular on a TV show--"

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"None of this is scaring you off?"

"I'm not saying I'm going to marry you yet," he says, rubbing his thumb against her arm. "But none of this is a dealbreaker. I could live with marrying into wealth and luxury and not having to work for the rest of my life. It would be tough, but--" She elbows him, and he laughs. "Seriously. I still want to see where this goes."

"Me too."

"So if you change your mind, just tell me. But you seem like you're about to fall asleep, so--"

"I'm fine."

"You _are_ fine," he teases, groping her ass. "I'm tired, so you can come keep me company in bed."

She laughs. "Very convincing." 

Despite her best efforts to be the heaviest person ever, he gets out from under her and tugs her to her feet. It's not until she's vertical that she realizes how close she was to falling asleep, swaying a little with dizzy exhaustion, and he grins.

"Sleep sounds good, right? We've got two weeks to hang out, and I'm not working this weekend, we don't have to stay up all night just to talk. I'm thinking we spend tomorrow on the couch watching TV and pretending we're not famous."

"Do we have to pretend we're not famous? I want to watch your show, I still haven't seen it."

"That sounds like a fun kind of being famous, yeah." He gives her a gentle push, now that he seems sure she's not going to fall over. "Brush your teeth."

The bathroom is a little untidy, but he clearly put some effort into cleaning it up, and it settles on looking lived in, not messy. His bed is made with clean sheets, and when Clarke slides in, her body remembers that she's been awake for way too long and she should be sleeping for the next week, solid.

She sets an alarm for nine anyway; there's no way she's wasting half of her visit with her boyfriend _sleeping_.

By the time he finishes in the bathroom, she's already drifting off, but still conscious enough to roll most of the way on top of him.

"I told you you were tired."

"I can still have you beheaded."

He kisses her forehead. "You have pretty limited power in Canada."

"That's what you think." Her next words are swallowed by a yawn, but she recovers. "I don't think I'm going to make it back to my hotel much."

"I hope not. I like having you here."

She lets out a contented sigh. "Yeah, I think I'll stay."


End file.
